


Pas de Deux

by Scarlet



Category: The Fall (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5062333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet/pseuds/Scarlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She could, of course, get rid of it...</p><p>Note: this is a reworked version of the vignette I posted on Tumblr a few months ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pas de Deux

Every time Reed opens her office desk drawer, she sees it, or part of it, depending on which item has rolled over, or covered it that day - a stapler, bright yellow Post-its, a handful of biros, elastic bands. There are no good reasons for her to keep it, beyond the fact that the file it belongs to has long been archived in the dusty depths of the PSNI. 

Returning it now would be awkward. 

_(Hi, I found this among my papers.)_

No.

She could, of course, get rid of it; crumple it hard between her fingers and chuck it in the bin. But every time she picks it up, she can’t bring herself to do just that. So, back in her desk it goes. She closes the drawer shut and forgets about it until she catches sight of it again.

Sometimes, late at night, when the long hours spent at the mortuary make her feel stretched and paper-thin, she picks the picture up and stares at it; turns it between her fingers, slowly, pensively.

Late at night, when it's all right to let the warmth creep in her cheeks. Late at night, when it's all right to let her breath catch in her throat, just a little. 

Late at night, when she can allow herself to take it all in. 

Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson, lying down on Sarah Kay’s bed, her arms above her head, wrists by the headboard, her dark coat like spilt ink against the white mattress.

Reed took many photos which included Stella in one way or another that day. But this one is different. This is the one shot that doesn’t look entirely professional.

Because of the way Stella is looking up, right at the camera.

Right at her. 

With a not-quite smile on her lips. (But it _is_ there, just for her. She  _knows._ )

It wasn’t the first time Reed had seen such a look directed at her. But she usually saw it in the eyes of men.  

The look that said: "Follow me. Come dance with me.”

_(Come for me.)_

Later that month, she’d almost accepted the invitation. 

_That was nice.  
Yes, it was._

But her legs hadn’t carried her that far. 

There had been so many valid reasons not to.  _What if my husband finds out? What will my children say? What if I want more than a one night stand and you don't?_

The last one, hushed, quiet like mist unfurling in her head: _what if I fall for you?_

_(She could, oh, she could.)_

So many reasons.

But in the end, the only one she’d been able to voice out loud that night had been 'Croydon'. She still cringed at the thought. Lame geographical excuse, to account for conservative moral codes she never really believed in.

An excuse, a bad one. So she could untether herself from Stella's lovely smile and hungry eyes.

Because it had been the sensible thing to do.

And Reed likes sensible, favours order over chaos.

But here she is now, looking down at the picture, with its edges slightly worn, remembering the tingle on her lips, the haphazard race of sparks up her spine, that yearning heaviness within the enclosure of her pelvic bones. 

And she can’t help but wonder what it would have been like to follow.

What it would have been like to dance with Stella Gibson. 

**Author's Note:**

> Reed took quite a few shot of Stella on that bed. Of course there had to be fic about it!


End file.
